


Gaining Nothing

by anysin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Emotional Manipulation, Hand Jobs, Invisibility, Loneliness, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26303683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Martin goes into a club, and Peter follows him.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Comments: 20
Kudos: 67





	Gaining Nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [track_04](https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/gifts).



> Takes place after "Big Picture". Sorry for taking this long, track_04! I hope you'll like it. <3

Martin can count the times he has been to a nightclub with one hand. The last time had been with Tim and Sasha, and it was the best of all his attempts: he even danced with Tim a little, leading to stepped toes and sputtered apologies, but also laughter and good time. Thinking about that last time makes him hurt now, so Martin pushes the memory out of his mind as he walks into the club, invisible to the eye.

As before, it's unpleasant to be in the club when he's on his own. The lights are too bright and blinking, the noise is unbearable, the crowd is too thick. People still step aside when Martin pushes past them, not even stopping to wonder who is pushing them; it makes Martin wonder if people can just sense that he doesn't matter, even when he doesn't appear to be there. It wouldn't surprise him. Even before he could actually fade away from sight, he was always invisible at these places, ever the wallflower. Maybe he just radiates it somehow, irrelevance.

Thoughts like these used to make him ache, and he used to avoid the ache. Tonight, he soaks in that quiet pain, in his own misery as he makes his way to the stairs leading up to the balcony above and climbs up. The balcony is crowded, but he is able to push his way over to the railing and lean against it, stare down at the dance floor below. He lets himself feel it all: his isolation, alienation, sadness. He lets it into his bones, shivers over it, and it almost feels sweet.

 _This is what you chose_ , he tells himself. _This is what you are now._

He lets his eyes slide shut, listening to the beat of the music and noise of the people inside. The sound isn't sharp; everything is muted within the Lonely, from the outside world to all the feelings Martin has inside, although he is no longer sure if he has many left at all. The desire to belong that used to ache in his chest just isn't there anymore. He doesn't have time to ponder about the meaning of that when he feels someone step into his personal space from behind, and before he can protest, a large hand comes down to rest on his shoulder.

"You are doing so well, Martin," Peter whispers, his voice as emptily warm as it always is.

Martin draws in a breath.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, feeling relieved when the strain inside him doesn't extend to his voice. He hasn't seen Peter in a while, neither at the Institute nor anywhere else; it worries him that Peter was able to follow him to this club. _Was_ Peter at the Institute today? Does he know about Martin's conversation with Basira, that Jon knows about the extinction?

Martin hasn't made it this far just to have everything fall apart around him, just when he's about to find out the truth. He forces his tense body to relax, anticipating Peter's reply.

"I saw you leaving the Institute today." He feels it as Peter shifts closer to him, close enough that their bodies almost touch. His hand slides down Martin's shoulder to his arm, following it all the way to his wrist. Peter wraps his fingers around it, clasping him in a light hold. "I believe it's the first time I've seen you go out invisible, but then again, it's easy to miss that if one isn’t paying attention." Peter laughs, inching even closer to him until a contact is made, their legs brushing together. "It's amazing progress for you, Martin. I'm very pleased with you."

"Good for you, I suppose." The tension inside him fades; Peter doesn't know about Jon. Of course, Martin could get paranoid and question every single thing that Peter says, but he has learned by now that Peter isn't particularly subtle. He would have revealed his knowledge, if he had any. "That doesn't explain why you're here though," he points out, trying to pull his hand out of Peter's loose hold.

Instantly, Peter's fingers tighten around his wrist.

"I am here to commend you on your progress," Peter says, his voice still soft and pleasant. He presses even closer to Martin, until their bodies fully touch; Martin breaks into shivers over the contact, his hands clenching around the railing. It has been a while, to say at least, since anyone has been this close to him. It makes his mouth go dry and his heart leap into his throat, throb there thickly. "You have worked so hard. I think it's time to reward you."

Securing his hold on Martin's wrist, Peter rests his cheek against Martin's, and brings his other hand between Martin's legs.

It's the former touch that is almost more distracting than the latter. Peter feels warm against him, human, his beard scratchy against Martin's smooth cheek. Martin doesn't know what he expected; for Peter to feel cold? Lonely is always cold, but Peter himself is still flesh and blood, at least most of the time. His hand around Martin's wrist is firm, but not painful, and the hand working between Martin's legs is likewise gentle, fondling him through his trousers. Martin looks around on instinct, but of course nobody can see them; they are both invisible, and even though Martin is not alone anymore, the world still cares just as little for him.

He almost wonders whether they would care if they were to turn visible again right now. The idea unnerves him, and he can't help but squirm a bit against Peter's hands.

"Hush." The hand on his groin moves up to his belt, starting to pull it free from the loops. "Let me help you feel good."

He shouldn't, he knows. Martin settles down with a sigh, closing his eyes as Peter unbuckles his belt, even though every cling of the buckle makes him flush from how loud it seems to be. But he knows that even if the sound made through the sphere of Lonely around them, it would drown in all the other noise in the club. They are safe.

This is what he chose.

Peter has pulled his belt open and is pushing the button of his trousers through the hole. As Martin relaxes against him, Peter's grip on Martin's wrist loosens, his hand sliding down to the back of Martin's hand, his fingers lacing between Martin's fingers. Peter is large enough for there to be a contrast between their hands, for Martin's to look small when he opens his eyes again and glances down. It's a strange sight, weirdly uncomfortable; Martin looks away from it, down to the dance floor. He tries to see through the masses of people, if there is fog at their feet.

"You know," Peter murmurs, his lips ghosting against Martin's skin, "I wasn’t lying when I said I’m pleased with you."

Martin shivers when Peter pushes his zipper down, the rasp of it loud within their isolated little sphere, shivering harder when he feels a big, warm hand sliding underneath his briefs. Peter presses his nose against Martin's cheek, inhaling his scent as he keeps talking, mouthing his words into Martin's skin:

"I always knew that my patron would suit you, but I have to say, I didn't anticipate just how well. It's very good for our project." Within Martin's briefs, Peter has found his half-hard cock and wraps his long, thick fingers around it, stroking his thumb against its length. Martin twitches in Peter's grasp, a blush spreading across his face over his reaction; he shouldn't be this open around Peter, this vulnerable. "Not _only_ good because of that, though," Peter whispers, fingers tightening around Martin's cock.

"What else is there?" Martin grips the railing, hearing as his breathing grows heavier as Peter starts to stroke him, his grip firm but the movement of his hand slow and patient. Martin can feel Peter's cock pressing against his arse, large, solid and _hard_. Martin licks his lips, closing his eyes again. It's all a lot to take.

Peter smiles against his cheek.

"I suppose nothing." Peter kisses, actually kisses his cheek before rubbing his own against Martin's, his whiskers rubbing roughly against Martin's skin. "And that's what is beautiful about it, Martin. We don't have to mean anything to each other." Peter pulls the hand that has been resting on top of Martin's away, lifting it up to grasp Martin firmly by his jaw.

"We can just be." Peter turns Martin's face towards his own, smiling to him with a complete absence of emotion in his eyes before leaning in to kiss him.

It should be repulsive to Martin, the kiss, but it's not. In fact, he kisses Peter back, opening his mouth beneath Peter's lips and accepting his tongue inside, meeting it with his own as he presses his body against Peter’s. Peter's response is immediate, hungry, his hands tightening on Martin's cock and jaw both as he kisses Martin hard, rubbing his swelling cock against Martin's arse. Martin releases the railing, reaching behind himself so he can try to touch Peter, try to pull him closer. That makes Peter pull away from the kiss, stare at Martin with wide eyes before he says in a low voice:

"Take your trousers off."

Invisibility is still new to Martin; he should worry about whether it holds, whether he will end up exposing himself to a club full of people, half-naked. This time, the idea does nothing to stop him: he grabs the waist of his opened trousers and gives them a shove, sending them sliding down to the floor. His face heats up as his legs are exposed, part of him wanting to cower, but he doesn't let that stop him from doing the same with his briefs, pushing them down over his arse and hips and lower.

"That's good enough," Peter says, his voice rougher than it was before. He still has one hand around Martin's cock and is still jerking on it, but he uses the other to stroke the side of Martin's hip, petting him for a while before allowing his hand to follow the curve of Martin's arse, giving one cheek a squeeze. "Are you a virgin?"

"No." Martin sets his feet as wide apart as they can go with his trousers and briefs still tangled in his ankles, his entire body shivering with anticipation. He can't seem to stop licking his lips now, his mouth endlessly dry. "Are you a gentleman?"

"Hardly." But he pulls his hand away from Martin's arse, bringing it over to Martin's mouth. He presses two big fingers against Martin's lips. "But I'm not a brute, either. Get these wet."

Martin shivers before obeying, opening his mouth and drawing the fingers in. He sucks on them dutifully, coating them with his saliva and making sure they're soaked before Peter pulls them out. Peter kisses him on his neck before taking his fingers to Martin's arse, stroking the rim of his hole with a fingertip before starting to ease the first finger in.

"Relax," Peter whispers to him, resting his face into Martin’s hair. He breathes in deep, exhales softly. "Good lad."

Peter’s finger feels good inside Martin, so it’s easy to relax around it, let it slide as deep into him as it can go. It’s the second finger that makes Martin breathe faster, his mouth falling open as he pants, as Peter stretches him and crooks both of his fingers inside him. Peter’s cock will be larger, naturally, and the idea of having it inside makes Martin shiver in- he doesn’t know what. There doesn’t seem to be much difference between fear and anticipation for him, now.

He breathes in and out, pushing the tension out of his body as he accepts Peter’s fingers, accepts their wriggling and thrusts, trying to focus on the hand still stroking his cock, on the thumb that wipes off pre-come off the tip. His hole aches when Peter pulls his fingers out, leaving him feeling empty.

"You really are something, Martin."

Martin can hear how Peter pulls his belt open, unfastens his trousers. Peter releases his cock, leaving it twitching against the warm air of the club as Peter brings his hand up to Martin’s hip, grasping it tight.

"You are special. I hope you know that by now." Peter spits in his hand, and Martin can hear how he slicks his cock, his hand moving wetly along its length before Peter guides its thick, blunt head to Martin’s hole, rubbing against the sensitive, puckered flesh. "We make a wonderful team."

Peter’s cock starts to slide into him, warm and solid and so, so large. Martin gasps as the head pops inside him, spreading him wide open, his entire body clamping down as he tries to control himself, calm himself down. It feels so intense already, and Martin knows it will feel ten times more so once Peter is all the way in. He focuses on his body, concentrates on keeping it soft and relaxed, trying to block Peter’s words from his ears.

"We were meant to come together, you and I." Peter grasps his hips from the other side as well, clutching him with both hands as he keeps pushing forward, his cock slowly inching into Martin. " _You_ are meant for _me_."

Peter thrusts, shocking Martin, thrusts until he’s buried all the way inside Martin, his cock pulsing within him as he holds it there, hands gripping down on his hips. Martin pants, trembling all over as he tries to adjust to Peter’s impressive size, as Peter’s words keep ringing in his head. 

_It means nothing,_ he tells himself. _It means nothing._

Martin hates that it matters to him, that it could mean _something_. He bites his lip, pushing back against Peter, letting his body squeeze tight around Peter’s cock until Peter moans.

"Prove it," he demands, and starts to rock his hips.

Martin thrusts against Peter’s cock, releasing one hand from the railing so he can grasp his abandoned cock, almost hissing at how rough his fingers feel around his own sensitive flesh. Peter is silent behind him first - stunned, Martin hopes - but soon his fingers steady themselves on Martin’s hips and he starts to move, following Martin’s movements first before taking over the rhythm, slamming into him fast. Martin cries out, part in pain but mostly in pleasure, jerking on his cock as Peter fucks him, the strokes of his cock long and deep. He pounds against Martin’s prostate, making Martin’s cock throb hard in his hand as pleasure courses through him, sharp and electric.

 _This is what you chose_ , he thinks. _This is what it’s supposed to be._

Peter has moved his face down to the crook of Martin’s neck, pressing sloppy kisses into his skin as he thrusts into him over and over again, gripping his hips so tight it hurts. Martin will be bruised, he will walk funny when he leaves the club tonight, but he also feels owned, almost cherished. It means nothing, he knows it means nothing, and that’s how it should be; he _is_ nothing. It only fits.

He almost wants to laugh, but instead he keeps moving along with Peter, moaning wantonly now. The little fear he had about getting caught is gone now; the club is still full of people around them but the universe might as well consist of him and Peter only, of the empty bliss between them. His fist bounces up and down along his cock, faster and faster as he feels his balls drawing up, as he feels his orgasm approach.

Just as it comes, Peter’s teeth clamp down on his neck, biting down hard as Martin’s entire body spasms, his come spurting into his hand as he keeps stroking himself through his climax, until his hand tires. Peter keeps thrusting into him, licking the dents he has left into Martin’s neck as he buries himself deep and comes, filling Martin with his hot seed. Martin moans, shuddering as he falls towards the railing, as his legs threaten to buckle out beneath him.

A wet trickle of come escapes his hole when Peter pulls out, making Martin blush hard. As he tries to collect himself, stand up straight again, he hears Peter tuck himself in his trousers, zipper sliding back up and the belt sliding back into the buckle, the buckle clicking shut.

"You really did well today, Martin," Peter says, his voice a little rough as he places his hand on Martin’s shoulder. He squeezes it, hard enough to hurt. "Keep up the good work."

Peter releases him, and although Martin can’t hear him leave, he knows that Peter is gone.

Shaking, Martin pushes himself away from the railing and leans down to pull his briefs and trousers back on, his heart beating fast in his ears as he dresses up again. Once he is clothed once more, he takes in a deep breath, and allows himself to become visible again.

Nobody notices.


End file.
